


Big Brother

by morphaileffect



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-26
Updated: 2011-12-26
Packaged: 2017-10-28 04:07:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/303565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morphaileffect/pseuds/morphaileffect
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fuji Shuusuke searches for his brother's murderer in a lawless city.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> written for neu. see her wonderful artwork for this story at her livejournal: http://neumegami33.livejournal.com/tag/potfic%3Abig%20brother

Not for the first time, Fuji wondered why it had to be here, why it had to happen five months ago, and why it had to be him. 

This was too far away. He had been too young. 

The flowers had come a long way. Fuji laid them down on the pavement gently. There had been a photograph here, but it was gone - which was probably just as well, he thought, because with the amount of graffiti and ruin he'd seen on the way here, his brother's photograph might have been spared by disappearing. 

This was not a good place to die. It was a grim area - an unlit part of a public park that had long fallen into neglect. 

All in all, this was a city people had forgotten about. No wonder it had become so dangerous. 

Yuuta had not needed to come here. He had a good life. He was the baby of the family and he was well-provided for and safe. 

But he would've gone this far to get away from his good life, and his family. From his older brother, especially. 

He would have been fifteen today. 

"A boy died here, you know..." 

Fuji looked over his shoulder and up. There was another boy in the area - lean and tall, with short black hair. He was perhaps Fuji's age or older - how much older, it was hard to tell. 

"A couple used to come here a while back to leave flowers and pray. I guess they were his family." The boy was staring at the flowers Fuji had left. "And I guess they came back." 

Fuji knew. His parents had used to leave flowers here. But they'd had to come from another city. And they were both too busy, and his older sister couldn't come to this city alone - it was up to Fuji to start the ritual and keep it going. 

Fuji stood and brushed dirt from the knees of his denim jeans. 

"Did you know him?" the boy asked. 

"No," Fuji quickly answered. "I just thought it was strange anyone would leave flowers here." 

Fuji was hoping the boy was dumber than he looked, which was not very dumb. He had a hardened look about him. His piercing eyes held Fuji's challenging gaze steadily. 

"You're not from around here, are you?" the boy said outright. "If you were, you'd know it's dangerous to hang around here at this time of night." 

"Really." Fuji smiled and stuck his hands in the pockets of his jacket - in one of which he'd hidden a switchblade - and turned to leave. "Thanks for the warning." 

He started to walk away, but the boy wouldn't be abandoned. 

"The gangs target people who walk alone," the boy called, as he strode to Fuji's side. "Where are you going? I'll walk with you." 

Fuji's smile faded a little. The boy's nearness made him nervous. It didn't help that the boy's hands had been stuck in his jacket pockets all the while, too. God knew what he had hidden in there. "No need," Fuji pronounced. "I can take care of myself." 

As if he sensed Fuji's apprehension, the boy took his hands out of his pockets, let his arms swing freely at his sides. This shouldn't have made Fuji feel more at ease, but it did. 

"Well, then," the boy said with a mirthless smile, "I hope you'll let me walk with you for my own protection?"

***

"I'm called Tachibana," the boy said. "What about you?" 

He took his time answering. The boy talked with the quiet confidence of a much older person, but Fuji knew enough about older people to be suspicious of their intentions. 

To be safe, he gave another name. 

"Tsubame," Tachibana slowly repeated. A corner of his lips rose. "That's different..." 

"It doesn't suit me?" Fuji asked, daring to be a bit more amiable. 

Tachibana shrugged. "Suits you just fine." 

The taller boy was disarming. Fuji had to be careful. If he really was friendly, it was useful to have a friend who was a native of this city - and if he wasn't, it wasn't as if Fuji couldn't handle it. As someone who could show Fuji around, he was temporarily useful; Fuji was planning to stay for the long haul anyway. Even if he didn't technically have anywhere to stay in, yet. 

He could tell that Tachibana didn't really need "protection." And that, like Fuji, he didn't have anywhere in particular he needed to go that night. The chances of him being a particularly clever slacker out to make an easy buck off a newcomer increased the longer they stuck together. Fuji kept his fingers the switchblade in his jacket just in case. 

To his surprise, Tachibana admitted he wasn't a native of the city, either. He and his family settled here only a few months ago, he said. 

"You know a lot about the city, for someone who's new," Fuji remarked. Tachibana easily replied that his family moved a lot; he made it a point to memorize each new place like the back of his hand. 

"The first thing you have to know about this city," he said, "is that it's been neutral ground for years. It's probably more dangerous here than it is elsewhere. The gang that used to run this place was weak. That's why other gangs - " 

He shut up and stopped walking abruptly. Fuji stopped as well. Behind them, he heard two other pairs of feet stop. 

They were being followed. And now that they'd stopped walking, they were being cornered. Two young men, perhaps in their late teens or early twenties, came toward them from the front, and stopped just short of knifepoint. There were four larger, older men surrounding the two of them, all in all. 

Fuji started to feel his blood run cold. 

Tachibana stepped close to him. "Stay close," he whispered aside to Fuji. "I'll protect you." 

Fuji smiled. "I told you," he said with a light-hearted tone, "I can take care of myself." 

He drew out the weapon from his pocket and triggered the blade. Tachibana stared at him, and at his weapon, for a long second, but made no comment. 

The men closed in. 

One of them started to speak. It had something to do with being good boys and letting their "big brothers" have their money. But he wasn't able to finish it, because halfway through the sentence, the heel of Tachibana's shoe was smashing his teeth in. 

To someone watching from outside, the following events would seem like a blur. There was a whirlwind in that poorly-lit corner, and at the center of it were two boys - a tall one with short black hair, and a shorter one with fair hair. 

The two boys were nowhere near as large or as intimidating as their attackers - one of them, in fact, smiled as if he was playing a game, one that he was having entirely more fun in than he was supposed to - but they were dealing at least twice as much damage. The smiling one wasn't even the only one holding a deadly weapon. But he wielded his more quickly, with much more grace and skill. 

In the end the two boys were the only ones left standing, scruffy and unscathed. The four older boys who had assaulted them were on their knees or on their backs, sharp objects knocked off their hands, groaning and disoriented. One of them was bleeding from the shoulder and unconscious. 

At the sight of their wounded companion, the older boys seemed to be energized. They crowded around their fallen comrade and tried to drag him to his feet, away from their original targets. 

They hadn't been expecting to come across this kind of opposition, certainly - not from children. 

But now that they knew they were up against no ordinary children, they geared up for a real fight. 

The two boys knew it. They knew they still had an advantage. 

But neither of them was in this city to kill, or to get caught. 

Fuji heard the sounds of policemen shouting and running in their direction, very belatedly. 

Tachibana grabbed Fuji's wrist. "Come." 

And he ran, and Fuji ran with him, leaving their dazed assailants far behind.

***

Tachibana took him to a place just on the borders of the business district. There was a building there, so far out of the center of the city as to be invisible, but not so far out as to be inaccessible. 

(Tachibana had apologized for taking him "home." He wasn't that knowledgeable about the city yet and he wasn't that aware of many other places a boy who had wounded someone else could hide. Fuji made it known that he was all right with it. If Tachibana's "home" was something he agreed with, it would solve his vagrancy problem, at least for tonight. 

(It wasn't as if he could go back to his parents' house, with the possible charge of murder suddenly on his head. Disturbing the peace, certainly. And assault, perhaps. 

(Fuji was puzzled Tachibana would offer to shelter him in the first place. Any slacker would run at the sight of blood and leave him in the air. Clearly, Tachibana was no slacker.) 

Fuji was impressed. Tachibana had a whole building all to himself. A small two-storey building in a hard-to-reach part of a disreputable neighborhood, but still impressive. The tenants could make all the noise they wanted here, and the cops wouldn't bother with this place. Strangely, there was hardly any noise at all. 

There was a light on, and sounds of someone playing a fighting game, that was about it. 

Tachibana unlocked the door for him. 

Inside, Fuji saw a fair-sized living room. Articles of clothing and bits of food were thrown all over the place. The smell of cigarette smoke, alcohol and mold meshed into something that was almost cozy, like the smell of an old pool hall. 

A bunch of young men lounged here. All of them snapped to attention at Tachibana's entry. A couple got to their feet at the sight of Fuji. 

They're so young, was Fuji's first thought. They all seemed barely out of middle school. Two of them had been playing a videogame, but had dropped the controllers at once when they saw Tachibana. Some were playing cards, with coins placed as bets, but all the cards either fell off or were hurriedly tossed from the players' hands. One of the boys, a short one with red hair and eyes you'd remember, seemed too young to be smoking, but was doing it anyway. 

They were kids. Yuuta's age. 

(He was a kid himself by anyone else's standards, Fuji was aware, but being a "kid" meant something else altogether on the streets. Yuuta had been a kid, and if Fuji had so much as caught him smoking, he would have knocked the cigarette off his lips and clipped him on the ear.) 

Tachibana introduced him: "Everyone. This is Tsubame. He's staying here for now." 

Fuji nodded in greeting and felt the stares on him grow more intense. 

The orders were issued calmly, barely above whisper-level - but it seemed the whole room quieted down so they could be heard. Kamio, get an extra mattress. Station it in my room. Ibu - pillows, bedclothes, blankets. Mori, take the medical kit upstairs. 

Everyone scrambled to obey. It was a new and fascinating thing, to Fuji - no one was grumbling, no one was dragging his feet. It was as if they had not been occupied with other things before. Having been around other teenage boys in a regular school setting, experience told him they were not usually so compliant. 

"There's a bathroom upstairs," Tachibana told him, casually ignoring the sudden flurry of activity around them both. "If you want to clean up, feel free. All the rooms are occupied, for now, so you're staying with me in my room until something's arranged." 

This seemed to cause a tense silence among those present. Fuji was no stranger to such things. He looked around at everyone else and everyone else avoided his gaze discreetly. 

As he followed Tachibana to the second floor, he heard the red-headed boy weakly mutter "But... Tachibana-san..." 

The red-headed boy was standing at the foot of the stairs, one hand balled up into a fist. When he met Fuji's gaze, he made the resentment in his eyes quite clear. 

"Shut it, Kamio," one of the other boys snapped. "Just do what Tachibana-san says." 

The redhead, Kamio, gritted his teeth and shot Fuji a grim look before flicking away his cigarette butt and darting off. He was faster on his feet than any of the others, Fuji noted, and a great deal more excitable. His lean limbs radiated restlessness. 

Fuji looked ahead at Tachibana, who in turn radiated pride without even trying to, who embodied the sort of dignity that would keep such a run-down place well-oiled and running smoothly. 

And he wondered what he had just gotten himself into.


	2. Chapter 2

He let Fuji clean up first. That was when Fuji noticed it.   
  
One of the guys who had attacked them earlier had cut the palm of his hand. He'd thought there was a slight sting, but he hadn't realized the cut was that large.   
  
It wasn't new to him. He'd been able to ignore wounds before. Yuuta used to say it was just because pain didn't register in his mind the way it did with other people.   
  
Yuuta had said that made him "scary."   
  
He needed to patch himself up, so he grabbed the nearest washcloth, tore it into strips that he wrapped tightly around his injured palm. That ought to stop the bleeding.   
  
Then he casually stepped into the room and found Tachibana seated upright on the one narrow bed. He'd already taken his shirt off, perhaps in preparation for a shower, but he also had a medicine kit laid out in front of him, for some reason.   
  
There were a number of scars on Tachibana's lean but well-muscled torso. Certainly more scars than Fuji had ever seen on another boy his age. There were a couple of fresh bruises from tonight's fight, but nothing alarming. Nothing that needed a medical kit, certainly.   
  
"All done?" Tachibana asked. "Shut the door." He gestured for Fuji to sit on the edge of the bed.   
  
Understandably, Fuji was reluctant. He was in Tachibana's territory, surrounded by his allies - if Fuji let his guard down here, there might be no escape.   
  
Tachibana raised an eyebrow. "You're not scared of me, are you?" he asked, deadpan. "I just want a look at that hand."   
  
Fuji blinked. Had he known about the wound before Fuji even cleaned up?   
  
He decided to take the risk and extend his hand when Tachibana reached for it. Tachibana's touch was gentle, like he was reaching for the hand of a girl, or a child.   
  
He had to sit, after all. Tachibana looked over the wound with the expert eye of someone used to seeing such things. It must've looked grisly, though, the jagged wound bleeding through the haphazard strips of stolen cloth. Without batting an eyelash, Tachibana got the implements he needed from the kit. The wound wasn't serious, and his face showed it.   
  
"They're runaways," Tachibana said as he treated the wound, "or orphans. Or so they say. I don't ask if they don't want to tell me."   
  
"I could tell they weren't family," Fuji said dryly. Up close, Tachibana seemed even more... intimidating, somehow.   
  
"They're almost all here." He started dressing the wound. "I require them to be back by 11 pm every night. They have to get their rest."   
  
"Rest?" Fuji frowned. "What for?"   
  
A corner of Tachibana's lips rose.   
  
"Wake up early enough tomorrow and you'll see."   
  
When Tachibana was done with the wound, a pleasant numbness had settled on it. The bandages were made of a much cleaner cloth than the one Fuji had initially used. They fit snugly around his palm, making him feel like another hand still held it, larger than his, and careful and warm.   
  
***   
  
The rest of the evening was uneventful. The boys left him and Tachibana to eat their dinner (simple curry, but not badly done; Fuji was impressed) in peace. He slept on the bed on Tachibana's small room, while Tachibana slept on the mattress, at his own insistence.   
  
This was how it was between them for many months.   
  
Fuji did not know why Tachibana was so kind to him, or why he trusted Fuji so much, though they knew so little about each other. However, they got along well enough, so it was not Fuji's place to question.   
  
While he stayed with Tachibana, Fuji needed to establish himself as a non-threat, which was easy enough. No one could think too badly of a short, soft-spoken, fair-featured kid who smiled by default. The boys in Tachibana's care, as impressionable as they were, were put off guard without much effort.   
  
That was one thing Fuji noticed almost immediately: the boys were too naive to be truly suspicious. Whoever their beloved Tachibana trusted, they trusted too.   
  
\- Except for the one called Kamio. He had a persistent dislike for Fuji, which he did not hesitate to show at every opportunity. For instance, he banged his shoulder against Fuji's rudely when they happened to pass each other by. When Fuji met his sidelong glances head-on with a friendly smile, Kamio either glared at him or quickly looked away.   
  
Needless to say, Kamio avoided as much interaction with Fuji as he could. And Fuji did not go out of his way to endear himself.   
  
Fuji had asked Tachibana if he could stay at their building while he looked for his own place, and Tachibana had agreed. Therefore, Fuji had plenty of time to get to know everyone in the building. He also came to know their routines.   
  
For example, there was the drill they did every morning. This was what Tachibana had wanted him to see, and which he missed for some days because he wasn't required to participate:   
  
At exactly 5 AM every day, all the boys were out of their rooms. The sun wasn't up yet, but the boys were, gathered in the lot's fairly large backyard.   
  
It was a strange routine that the boys didn't fail to observe. Fuji sometimes thought he was watching a group of hardened athletes, not in fact a bunch of homeless, stick-thin young thugs. If the boys had been smoking or drinking or wasting time with any other vice the night before, all evidence of it seemed to vanish in the morning, when they lined up at the yard fully awake and in top form.   
  
The routine was more or less the same - a series of muscle and endurance-building exercises first, and then a round of sparring. Some mornings, Tachibana was there to lead the routine, but when he wasn't, Kamio was there, or Ishida.   
  
And the sparring, it seemed, was different every time. When Tachibana was there, he would teach the boys a new technique every day - a new counterattack, or a new method of disabling an armed opponent. They were clearly being taught how to fight, and the boys listened intently, as if they were aware with every ounce of their being that their lives depended on how much they learned.   
  
_This isn't a gang,_  Fuji decided.   
  
_This is an army._   
  
Tachibana wasn't just putting up runaways and orphans out of the goodness of his heart. He was training them for something. Fuji didn't know what that "something" was, yet, because the boys clearly didn't, either, but he could at least venture a guess...   
  
The city they were in was a dangerous place. People, not just young people, allied themselves with gangs for the sake of survival, and in those gangs they earned their keep. They protected each other, gave each other what they needed, shared among themselves what they took by force.   
  
And for the boys who had gathered under the wing of this enigmatic stranger, the young man who took them in even without knowing their pasts or their real names - "earning their keep" was a fulfilling task. It gave them purpose.   
  
Tachibana ran a setup that shouldn't work, but did.   
  
***   
  
Fuji was the outsider. No one was ever required to participate in the daily exercises, but the boys did because they wanted to. Fuji didn't want to.   
  
He chose, instead, to join Tachibana on his nightly excursions.   
  
It often seemed that Tachibana didn't have a plan during those excursions. But it didn't take Fuji long to see that every move was, in fact, calculated. It wasn't easy to spot, however, for someone who did not know Tachibana as well - he would have no obvious pattern to stealing food, clothing or medicine, or to beating up people from other gangs who happened to be doing things he didn't like.    
  
And there were a lot of things he didn't like.   
  
More than once he and Fuji put a stop to gang members assaulting helpless elderly folk, or tormenting stray animals, or trashing a small shop just because they could.   
  
Tachibana, Fuji found, operated under a strange moral code. For some reason, stealing so that Tachibana's boys would have something to eat was okay - but stealing cash at gunpoint was not. It was all right to beat up on a newspaper vendor who stiffed them on "protection money" - but it was not all right to let members of other gangs beat up that same vendor because he refused to let them take girly magazines for free.   
  
The more Fuji thought about it, and witnessed it firsthand, the less doubt there was in his mind.   
  
"You're making a new territory for yourself," he asked aloud, "aren't you?"   
  
Tachibana smiled and shrugged. It was a carefree smile, a smile that betrayed nothing and said everything at once.   
  
"You can't," Fuji warned him. "Your group is too small and weak. If you keep on like this, other gangs will take notice and target you."   
  
"Then let them come at us," Tachibana declared.   
  
They were standing together on the rooftop of a building, which happened to have a good view of the rest of the city, without being the tallest building around. It was one of Tachibana's favorite places to think, and over time it had become one of Fuji's favorite places as well.   
  
He could see the spot where his brother died, from here. He could see the building where Tachibana and his boys lived. And best of all, he could see the confirmed hideouts of the other gangs, their favorite bars, nightclubs, street corners and alleyways.   
  
Already, in his head, he saw each section of the city as a territory. And  _none_  of these was Tachibana's, not just yet.   
  
"The boys," Fuji reminded. "Aren't you worried about them at all?"   
  
"They're the last things I have to worry about," Tachibana said quietly. "Every day, the boys grow stronger. Together, they can stand up to any gang."   
  
"Standing up to them is fine! But if those other gangs come at you with guns and grenades... you don't even have a place to hide."   
  
"Who said anything about hiding?"   
  
The way Tachibana said this sent a shiver down Fuji's spine. He couldn't say exactly why, because Tachibana only spoke with the natural confidence of a leader - one who would never let his team down, who would die with them if need be.   
  
But maybe it was exactly his lack of fear of dying that was so unnerving.   
  
"You're suicidal and stupid," Fuji cheerfully pointed out. "And I won't be part of it."   
  
"I understand. You have your own agenda."   
  
The  _knowing_  in Tachibana's voice made Fuji fall still.   
  
"You've already found a flat, on the second floor of the Kawamura ramen shop. I know you've already talked to the landlord and worked out a deal. But you haven't moved out of our building yet. Why?"   
  
If Tachibana was targeting to establish his own territory in this city, it stood to reason that he would know what was going on inside it - at least in his home court. So he knew everything that happened with all his boys - but Fuji honestly had no idea that Tachibana kept tabs on him, as well.   
  
Why hadn't he moved out yet? "I don't see any reason to leave you," he answered, truthfully.   
  
"Isn't independence enough reason?" Tachibana asked, smiling. "It must be troublesome, having to take orders from me all the time."   
  
Fuji shrugged. "That's true, it's a bit troublesome," he chuckled. "But you know, I'm aware you're just using me." He looked Tachibana straight in the eye, and Tachibana held his gaze. "I help collect information on other gangs, and you use it to your advantage. But I don't mind." His smile grew wider. "I'm using you, too."   
  
Tachibana, on his part, was not smiling. He listened closely to everything that was coming out of Fuji's mouth. When Fuji was done speaking there was a long, tense pause between them.   
  
"Why are you even here, Tsubame?" Tachibana said presently, in a voice low enough to be conspiratorial, but not dangerous. "I don't ask, because I never ask, but that doesn't mean I don't want to know. And that you haven't told me after all this time, tells me that it's for a very personal reason."   
  
Fuji knew he was right to be intimidated by Tachibana, in spite of the other boy's disarming behavior. This was the boy whose body was riddled with old scars, who was smart enough to survive this long out on his own and charismatic enough to get an army of younger boys to survive along with him.   
  
His stare reached out into other people's souls and ferreted out secrets. But Fuji was ready to die before he was going to tell him - or anyone - about Yuuta.   
  
Fuji stopped himself from reaching into the pocket of the jersey he wore. The cloth bandage that Tachibana had used to wrap around Fuji's hand was kept close to Fuji's person at all times, nearly a year after they first met. When he felt anxious, he wrapped the bandage around his hand, and unwrapped it again as soon as the pressure had made him calm.   
  
This, too, was a secret.   
  
"There's a man I'm looking for," Fuji allowed to let slip. "He's bound to be in this city. And if he isn't here now, he's bound to come back."   
  
"Oh?" Tachibana continued to look steadily at him,  _into_  him. "You haven't been asking around for any 'man.' You've never mentioned one, either. So I don't know if you're telling the truth, Tsubame..."   
  
"I don't need to talk to anyone about him," Fuji answered. "There will be enough clues, enough pieces to fit together... so that I'll recognize him when he does show up, I'm sure of it."   
  
Tachibana may have disagreed, but he said nothing that indicated it. Not even a grunt.   
  
"When I find him," Fuji pronounced, "I'm going to kill him. And when that time comes, I won't be needing anyone's help, not even yours."   
  
Finally, Tachibana looked away. Before he did, Fuji thought he could saw a flicker in his eyes that he had never seen before - in the semi-darkness, it looked very much like wounded pride.   
  
(But it didn't make sense for Tachibana to feel slighted. After all, who was Fuji to him? He wasn't even officially one of his "boys.")   
  
(Tonight, "Tsubame" was just another guy who said he was fine with being used. There was no telling who he would be tomorrow.)   
  
"I see," Tachibana chuckled softly, "you're suicidal and stupid, too."


	3. Chapter 3

There were eight things that Fuji Shuusuke knew about the person who killed his brother:   
  
1\. There were no eyewitnesses to the actual murder. However, there could be only one culprit: a young man who had just come into the city alone.   
  
2\. The term "young" was relative. No one really knew his age. Some say he was a teenager. Some could swear he was older, perhaps in his early twenties.   
  
3\. The killer wore a long jacket, rode a motorcycle, and sported shoulder-length hair that the wind made wild. He carried a  _katana_ , which he used to maim his victims before he finished them off.   
  
4\. The killer's methods were precise, almost clinical. Torture first by dismemberment, then death, by a single bullet to the center of the forehead.   
  
5\. The killer stopped to talk to no one, and engaged anyone who stood in his way in battle. He had been compared to a soulless machine. It was reasonable to assume, then, that the child Fuji Yuuta had stood in his way.   
  
6\. After Fuji Yuuta's death, the young man disappeared.   
  
7\. No one ever learned this person's objective - if it was just to shake up the gangs, or to establish his own territory, or to instill his own brand of law in that lawless part of the world. No one knew why he left after killing Fuji Yuuta.    
  
8\. Once Fuji Shuusuke found him, and ascertained his identity as his brother's murderer, he would show no mercy.   
  
***   
  
The city felt it when this young man arrived. The motorcycle he rode wasn't flashy or especially powerful, but it roared with a noise that roused the gangs, announced that change had come.   
  
The gangs in that city were riled up. This wasn't the first time they were disturbed by a lonewolf, but as with any time, they were not prepared. They were complacent in that city, where they were preoccupied year-round only by keeping rival gangs at bay.   
  
The young man stopped to talk to no one. He made his way to the center of the city, to a building where a faction of one the most powerful and most heavily-armed gangs in the city was shacked up. He simply walked in with his  _katana_  and left a trail of broken bodies behind him.   
  
He took over a territory. Just like that.   
  
The news spread like wildfire. The newcomer was known simply as "Tezuka" and that name struck fear into the hearts of many. Survivors of his one-man assault rushed to pledge themselves to him. Disloyal lackeys pondered leaving their bosses for this monster, who might be even stronger than all the gang bosses in the area put together.   
  
Of course, this meant no one in Tachibana's gang wanted to leave. On the contrary, the majority of the boys were energized. They looked forward to meeting this newcomer - on the battlefield, or at the negotiating table.   
  
"He'll be a powerful ally," Sakurai said excitedly. "Once Tachibana-san shows him how strong he is, he's gonna wanna team up with us!"   
  
"Don't be an idiot," Ibu droned. "He's not out to make allies, otherwise he wouldn't have come in killing people. Besides, he may want Tachibana-san, but what about the rest of us?" He spontaneously launched into a long speech about how horrible their individual fight stats were and how they could still get their asses kicked if they didn't work hard enough to reach Tachibana's level - but everybody else had already stopped listening. True to form, Ibu just kept going until he ran out of things to say.   
  
The boys were divided on how a confrontation with Tezuka would go. But no matter what, they were pumped up. This newcomer got their blood racing, with dread or with excitement or a mix of both.   
  
Fuji's blood was racing, too, but for an entirely different reason.   
  
***   
  
That night, he went alone to Tezuka's hideout.   
  
He had already gotten around the city, and knew some of the men who had pledged themselves to Tezuka's service. They were not to be trifled with, certainly - some of them were the strongest thugs in the city, who changed affiliations due to boredom, cowardice or pure faithlessness.   
  
They knew Fuji, and when they learned why he was there, they let him in without even frisking him. It still amazed him to see how far he could get with a smiling face.   
  
It amazed him even more that Tezuka was able to organize a professional setup in only a few days. Or, more to the point, the thugs who allied themselves with him were able to organize themselves into a professional setup. Things just seemed to fall into place for this newcomer - damned if that didn't mean he had the blessing of some deity out there who loved carnage.   
  
He was apparently not the only person to see Tezuka that night. There was a West Side gang boss whom Fuji knew. He was stepping out of Tezuka's "office" just as Fuji was ushered into the waiting room.   
  
Mizuki. That was his name. For some reason, Fuji really hated the sleazy bastard. There were sleazier bastards in the city, who were even less obvious about it, but Mizuki's smooth tongue and sly look just rubbed him the wrong way.   
  
"Tsubame-kun," Mizuki greeted with a nod as he passed. Fuji valiantly resisted the urge to stab him in the back of the neck with the switchblade in his pants pocket.   
  
He let Mizuki slither out, then stepped in to see Tezuka.   
  
Tezuka lounged in a chair facing the door. Not turning his back on any doors - clearly a veteran. And clearly confident in his own self-preservation skills, because there was no one else in the room. Normal bosses would be surrounded by bodyguards, especially after they had just taken over a major territory.   
  
His  _katana_  leaned against the chair he sat on, within easy reach. He regarded Fuji with sharp eyes gleaming behind expensive-looking spectacles.   
  
There was a definite presence about Tezuka. It inspired awe, like the force of a driving gale. So different from Tachibana, Fuji did not fail to notice: there was a sense of serenity, of  _control_ , that made Tezuka magnetic for people who were attracted to power.   
  
In a certain light, he didn't seem that much older. Perhaps he was even the same age as Fuji - it was difficult to tell. Tezuka's hair was brown and shoulder-length... not wild at the moment, it wasn't in the wind. Besides, one shouldn't put too much stock in hair as an identifier.   
  
"I'm known as Tsubame," Fuji formally greeted with a bow.   
  
Tezuka held his gaze.   
  
"What brought you here, Tsubame?"   
  
Tezuka's voice had an eerie quality that made the question sound like it had many dimensions - what brought you to this city? To this hideout? To where you're standing right now?   
  
"I'm here to offer my services."   
  
"Your services," Tezuka echoed. "As you can see, I am not in need of more men."   
  
_Or of_  any  _men,_  Fuji corrected privately. He was about to make Fuji very sorry for wasting his time. Fuji could feel the familiar dread creeping up the base of his skull.   
  
"I like to think," he made sure to put honey in those words, as he stepped up, "I have something that the rest of your men can't provide. Something you need."   
  
Up close, Fuji couldn't help but notice, Tezuka was fair. Like a marble statue. Or something else that was cruelly, beautifully inhuman.   
  
"And that is...?"   
  
In response, Fuji drew his switchblade.   
  
Tezuka did not bat an eyelash. Not a muscle moved on his cold marble face.   
  
Fuji threw the switchblade across the room. The path it traced placed it just millimeters away from Tezuka's right cheek.   
  
And it hit its mark on the back of Tezuka's chair - where a black scorpion was making its way toward his right ear.   
  
Still... not a twitch from Tezuka. Not a hint of alarm, as he reached up and drew Fuji's switchblade, the body of the scorpion still impaled on it and twitching.   
  
Did he know that scorpion was there...?   
  
"That is," Fuji replied, "information. I've been around, enough to know that lowlives like Mizuki Hajime don't just end a conversation with a rival boss without leaving a calling card." Scorpions were Mizuki's "calling card" - they were silent, fast-acting and bloody expensive. Suitable to his capricious tastes. "I have no prior affiliations, so I'm an uncomplicated guy. Telling you who not to trust is just one of the ways I can save your life."   
  
Tezuka tossed the switchblade toward Fuji. It landed point-down and embedded itself - and the scorpion dying on its tip - into the floor, less than an inch from Fuji's left foot.   
  
"Say I accept your offer. What do you want in exchange for your loyalty?"   
  
_I just want to watch you kill someone,_  Fuji said in his mind.  _I just want to be sure it's you._   
  
"We can talk about that later." He flashed another guileless smile.


	4. Chapter 4

Over the next few days, Fuji saw more blood spill than he did while he lived in Tachibana's building.   
  
Tezuka moved with his sword as if they were a single entity. He struck with a grace Fuji had never seen before. With Fuji's help, he was able to penetrate the strongholds of the toughest gangs in the city with sheer single-minded strength.   
  
It must have been true that he wasn't human. That was the most plausible explanation.   
  
Fuji still wasn't sure if Tezuka was his brother's killer... though as he spent more time with Tezuka, the chance of it became slimmer and slimmer. There was no evidence, for example, that Tezuka had ever been to that city - he had simply tired of another city, and decided to take over another.   
  
Tezuka may sport a  _katana_ , but a lot of gangsters carried swords; it was flashy and intimidating. It was the symbol of the cold-hearted assassin.   
  
...But Fuji had to wonder how "cold-hearted" Tezuka really was. He did not always kill - in fact, he rarely killed. He maimed, he crippled, he made sure that his victims remembered him and ran back to their masters traumatized - that was his strategy.   
  
In fact, from Fuji's point of view - if anyone died from his attacks, it was their fault, for being too weak to survive. Tezuka generally did not aim to kill.   
  
(Which meant that Fuji had too few occasions to observe his killing tactics. This was frustrating, but Fuji couldn't help but admire it. For a person as talented with his sword as Tezuka was, it would take considerably more effort  _not_  to kill. Tezuka's art was blood without murder.   
  
(Fuji resolved to stick with Tezuka nonetheless. Tezuka's growing infamy also attracted challengers from other cities, and there was a chance the lonewolf who killed Yuuta would be among them.   
  
(Besides, one of the first things they did together as a team was torch Mizuki Hajime's beachfront residence in retaliation for the scorpion. That was fun.)   
  
Being in Tezuka's gang was like a permanent headrush. The speed with which Tezuka accomplished things, grew in power and influence, gave Fuji very little time to catch up, though he somehow managed to do it. He also rarely slept well, but considering the number of lives that his decisions affected, it was a tradeoff that he thought was fair.   
  
He no longer went home to Tachibana's building as often as he did. And with the number of times he had been seen in Tezuka's company, it was a sure thing Tachibana and his boys already knew why.   
  
***   
  
Fuji did not realize it, but he had taken to wearing Tachibana's bandage permanently. He would wrap it around his palm in the morning, to calm himself in preparation for another day of taking over the world with Tezuka... and then he would forget to take it off.   
  
Naturally, the bandage started to look worn - frayed and old and well-used. Bits of it started to crumble and fall off from tear and constant washing, but Fuji still preferred that to not having it on his person.   
  
Tezuka pointed it out. "Is your hand hurt?" he asked.   
  
Fuji blinked. Did he have a wound somewhere he failed to see again?   
  
He noticed the bandage on his hand. He idly wondered how Tezuka's touch would feel like. He wondered if it would be gentle and warm, like Tachibana's. Or if it would feel like stone or something not of this earth.   
  
"No," Fuji answered, with his most reassuring smile. "Just cold."   
  
***   
  
Very late one night, he came back to the building. Uchimura and Sakurai, the only two boys who were still awake and indoors at the time, were both grimly silent as they watched Fuji go through the door and up the stairs.   
  
He felt like an intruder now. He didn't blame them. He had overstayed his welcome.   
  
Tachibana was already stretched out on his side on the mattress, facing away from the door. Not good, Fuji said to himself, I keep telling him that turning his back on a door, even in his sleep, was dangerous.   
  
The bed that was supposed to be Fuji's remained empty. The light was off, and Fuji kept it off.   
  
"I'm moving to my flat at the Kawamura ramen shop tomorrow," Fuji told Tachibana.   
  
Tachibana did not stir.   
  
"Thank you," Fuji said, "for everything." Still no response.   
  
Fuji shut the door softly and undressed in the dark. He clmbed into the bed that had been reserved for him, and realized all of a sudden that he was very tired. He waited a minute, five minutes more, but Tachibana still didn't say a word, so he allowed sleep to take him.   
  
Very early in the morning, he woke to find Tachibana gone.   
  
***   
  
The small room on the second floor of the Kawamura ramen shop was not a fancy room, but in exchange for help around the restaurant  _and_  "protection", the family that owned it went the extra mile to make it comfortable.   
  
By the time Fuji had moved there, he had already gained some status. The Kawamura boy, Takashi, sometimes took Fuji aside to ask questions about Tezuka and gang life, in general. Takashi was Fuji's age, and was a gentle, courteous soul; his parents were against him joining any gang, clinging to the feeble hope that even if they couldn't afford to give their children a better environment to grow up in, they would still manage to stay on the straight and narrow path.   
  
Fuji would later help Kawamura Takashi get inducted into Tezuka's gang.   
  
"I know you're against it, too," Takashi said to Fuji during the induction celebration - a rowdy meal with his newfound "brothers" at another sushi restaurant, far from his family's. "I'm sorry to force you, Tsubame."   
  
"It doesn't matter," Fuji assured him with a pat on the shoulder. "And you didn't force me. You're right - the best way to protect your family and to get ahead in this city is to join a gang. It'll be hard for you going it alone." He smiled. "And Reika is growing up to be a lovely young woman, isn't she?"   
  
That struck at the heart of things. Takashi slouched and hung his head.   
  
"What happened back then," he muttered, "if you hadn't come along... I wouldn't have been able to fight them all off. I almost didn't get Reika away."    
  
Reika, Takashi's younger sister, was coming home late from middle school when she was accosted by three young men. Takashi happened to be passing by, on a delivery for the restaurant, and he attempted to fight them off. Strong as he was, he was no match for the gangsters. Fortunately, Fuji was also in the area.   
  
"I'm her big brother. I have to be there for her, you know...?"   
  
The smile vanished from Fuji's lips. He looked away, before Takashi could notice it.   
  
"You understand, don't you, Tsubame?" Takashi asked.   
  
***   
  
As children, "Shuu-kun" and "Yuu-chan" were inseparable. They held hands often, as Shuusuke, barely a year older, helped Yuuta cross the street, or introduced his shy younger brother to new friends. They protected each other, though in such a calm world, there was little to protect each other from.   
  
They lived in a peaceful city. They had a bright future ahead of them. Shuusuke got excellent grades, and Yuuta was popular with other children his age.   
  
But things changed when Shuusuke entered middle school, and left Yuuta behind in grade school. Somehow Shuusuke gained a reputation as someone who liked getting into fights. It was hard enough to explain to others that jealous male classmates targeted him for being "pretty" and getting the attention of the girls, or for being praised for his academic performance - it was even harder to explain when he was able to beat up said male classmates all by himself.   
  
That was around the time Yuuta started staying away. Shuusuke was puzzled at first, but he told himself it was for the best. He could understand if Yuuta didn't want to be associated with his "war freak" of an older brother. It only stung when Yuuta refused his help with the things they used to do together, yelling "I can do it by myself!"   
  
Yuuta would never hold his hand again, or even touch him, or look at him with a little brother's admiration.   
  
He felt Yuuta slipping further and further away. And when Yuuta transferred to middle school in another city, where they had no family and knew no one, Shuusuke resigned himself to the worst.   
  
It must have been true that Yuuta hated him. After all, Shuusuke had betrayed his trust. They had a bright future ahead of them. Now everyone only knew Yuuta as "that troublemaker Shuusuke's younger brother." Yuuta's fate was forever tied to his brother's. That other city where no one knew him was his only escape.   
  
But in that other city, Shuusuke couldn't protect him. Shuusuke had no idea what was going on. Yuuta came home late with scars and bruises, and refused to talk to anyone, especially his older brother.   
  
Then one night, Yuuta didn't come home at all. His family got a call in the morning from authorities from the other city. They were being asked to identify a body.   
  
One look at Yuuta's mutilated, mangled corpse and he knew what to do: Shuusuke quit school and left home. He did this without the knowledge or consent of his parents. The only one who knew was his older sister, Yumiko, who couldn't sleep that night and caught him as he was heading out the door.   
  
"Are you," she asked, "going to find who did it?"   
  
Shuusuke hesitated. Yumiko could wake their parents, and he could run, but he didn't want to make an enemy of another beloved sibling.   
  
"Yes," he answered.   
  
She nodded.   
  
"Get him," she said in a shaking voice. She repeated more loudly, more steadily, "Get him, Shuu-kun."   
  
***   
  
One of the many benefits of being Tezuka's right hand was knowing about other gangs outside of the city. Tezuka came from another city himself, though he wouldn't say which.   
  
One day Tezuka got a visitor: a tall young man with wild black hair. He was pleasant enough, but Fuji was wary of him, especially seeing how comfortable he was wearing shirts that left his upper arms and the many scars he had there exposed.   
  
He wore his scars like trophies. Something about him reminded Fuji of Tachibana, but only vaguely.   
  
"I'm just passing through," this young man assured them. He was no friend or ally of Tezuka, but Tezuka tolerated his presence, therefore the rest of his gang had to, as well.   
  
He was called Chitose. He was part of another gang called Shitenhouji. Fuji decided to keep an eye on him, and he seemed to be fine with being kept an eye on. One would even think he enjoyed the attention.   
  
One night, Fuji received a summons. Tezuka wanted him and other higher-ups of the gang to be present while he "made an example" of some upstarts from the poorer side of town.   
  
"Can I tag along?" Chitose asked. "This ought to be good, right?"   
  
Fuji shrugged. He, himself, hated summary executions, but it was part of life in power - though it was not Tezuka's way to kill, he killed, if it was called for. Little rebellions had to be quashed before they could grow up into real problems.   
  
When Fuji and Chitose got to the scene, there were four boys on their knees, in the middle of a circle made by over a dozen men armed with swords and guns. One of these men was Takashi. He even beamed and waved as Fuji approached.   
  
Fuji had no time to return his greeting, however. The boys on the ground caught his full attention. Their hands were tied behind their backs and they were well and truly bloodied - beaten to within an inch of their lives.   
  
In front of them all stood Tezuka.   
  
The boys were not allowed to raise their heads. The gleam on Tezuka's exposed sword told them that much. As a result, none of them were able to see Fuji come into view.   
  
If they were able to see him, they would have been able to recognize him.   
  
Fuji rushed to Takashi's side and asked what was going on.   
  
"These guys broke into one of our armories," Takashi whispered. "Just the four of them. Pretty cheeky, huh? Looks like they were led by that one." He pointed his automatic gun at one of the captives, one whose lean limbs radiated restlessness. "They wouldn't answer any of our questions, though. Not even to say which gang they're part of."   
  
Fuji stared. Fresh blood drenched Kamio's hair and made it look black. Beside him were Ibu, Ishida, Uchimura... close friends, who could be trusted not to leave Kamio to suffer the consequences of his mistakes alone.   
  
Of course they wouldn't say which gang they were from, Fuji thought; chances are, they weren't acting on their boss' orders. Kamio would lash out in anger like that. He must have been growing frustrated at how Tezuka's territory was growing to cover most of the city, while their little gang had to lie low and pretend to be invisible, just because they weren't strong enough yet.   
  
The four of them had apparently caused major damage to the armory itself, and badly hurt the people who were guarding it. Though very young, it was clear they were very skilled fighters. They had also tried to get away with loot, but Tezuka happened to be in the area; with him to lead the chase, the boys were easily rounded up.   
  
Fuji stepped into the circle, calling Tezuka's attention to him. Tezuka caught his eye and complied with his silent request to go off to one side, out of everyone else's earshot, and speak privately.   
  
Chitose watched them walk off, eyes shining with curiosity.   
  
"You asked me once," Fuji whispered to Tezuka, "what I wanted in exchange for my loyalty."   
  
Tezuka waited for him to continue.   
  
"I want those boys released without being harmed any further."   
  
Fuji had never asked Tezuka for anything. He had certainly never asked for lives to be spared, knowing as he did the importance of the practice of "making an example" of people who didn't know their place.   
  
But Tezuka had never refused his right-hand man anything, either. And he wasn't going to dare start with this.   
  
"If they do this again," Tezuka warned.   
  
"They won't," Fuji said firmly.   
  
Fuji's word was all Tezuka needed. With a single gesture, Tezuka commanded his men to release the captives. The boys were cut loose and pulled up to their feet.   
  
The boys' faces were badly smashed up, and it wasn't likely that they could see very well out of those eyes... but just to be safe, Fuji took a step back so that Tezuka's frame obscured his.   
  
"Our boss has generously spared your lives," one of Tezuka's minions announced to the boys. "I hope you understand how lucky you little bastards are."   
  
"Lucky" was a darkly funny word in this case. Uchimura couldn't walk. Ishida carried him on his back, though he could barely keep himself upright. It was to be expected, though, that even with possibly punctured lungs and legs battered to jelly, the first thing Kamio did upon getting to his feet was get into a fighting stance.   
  
"Kamio!" Ibu breathed. He wrapped his arms around his friend from behind, started pulling him away. "Let's go. They're letting us go."   
  
With much reluctance, Kamio let his comrades run, and he stumbled off after them.   
  
Disappointment was the general sentiment of everyone left behind, save for Takashi (who had not been looking forward to killing anyone tonight, not really), Fuji and Tezuka. But no one could seem  _too_  pissed off, if Tezuka himself wasn't affected by the incident.   
  
Tezuka said he was going back to headquarters. Hence everyone was, as well. Fuji and Chitose were going back on the same bike. Chitose slapped Fuji on the back amiably as Fuji climbed onto the seat, behind him.   
  
"You know those guys?" he asked.   
  
Fuji smiled at him. "You could say that."   
  
His tone was dismissive, but Chitose failed to get the hint.   
  
"That fighting stance," Chitose mused aloud, "I didn't think I'd see it here."   
  
Fuji gripped the seat of Chitose's motorcycle, which he held on to for support. The bandage around his hand suddenly felt a little too tight.   
  
"What do you mean?"   
  
"Tachibana." Though he couldn't see Chitose's face, Fuji heard the delight in his voice. "So he's still around, huh."   
  
Fuji waited to see if he was going to say more about Tachibana. But Chitose stayed silent throughout the drive back.


	5. Chapter 5

Fuji couldn't ask about Tachibana directly without arousing suspicion. So he just stuck to Chitose, hoping to come across more clues. He could resume his hunt for his brother's killer at another time.   
  
He did not learn much about Tachibana, but he did learn about Chitose. Chitose grew up in a rough neighborhood, in a city far from there. Getting wounded was a rite of passage for some of the gangs there, he said: the more scars you had, the tougher you seemed to others. Kids as young as 9 years old could sign up for gangs, and he did, so some of his deepest scars were that old.   
  
Tachibana must have grown up in the same neighborhood.   
  
It was a rough city, rougher than this one, Chitose said. Children used to die there. It didn't achieve any peace until Shitenhouji took over, so he was all for Tezuka taking over here.   
  
"Every city needs a leader," Chitose pointed out. "And every leader needs a city. Without one, the other self-destructs."   
  
This led Fuji to think back to his brother's killer - the lonewolf. Why had he come at all? Was it because he didn't have a city, and needed one? And, when he found that this city didn't suit his style, did he just move on to another?   
  
If so, where was he now? Where was his city? Or was he even still alive? Was it still possible to hold him in account for his crimes?   
  
***   
  
And the one bad thing about being Tezuka's right-hand man was that it made Fuji complacent.   
  
Every part of the city started to feel like Tezuka's territory, and as Tezuka's right-hand man he became used to being recognized and respected everywhere he went. He felt he could still move around on his own, the way he did when he was a freelancer.    
  
But Tezuka had not yet taken over all of the city. For example, there was the West Side.   
  
If, for example, anyone happened to catch Fuji walking alone in the dead of night, knocked him out and hauled his unconscious body over to the West Side, Tezuka wouldn't know.   
  
And if Fuji awoke an hour later, disoriented and groggy, he would have no way to let Tezuka know where he was. Even if he had an idea where he was, which wasn't easy, because he was tied to a chair inside a steel-gray bunker with a drain in one corner. His hands and feet were bound to the armrests and legs of the steel chair, which he felt was custom-made to match the room's grim atmosphere.   
  
All he knew for sure was that this was in Mizuki Hajime's territory.   
  
He knew, because Mizuki Hajime himself was there, decked in trademark finery (which meant a purple velvet suit and a feather boa. Who the hell wears feather boas to a torture session). There were two other minions there - big men, much older and more dangerous-looking, possibly under payroll.   
  
"Good evening, Tsubame-kun," Mizuki greeted. His smooth serpent's voice, as always, made Fuji's skin crawl. "You're a smart guy. I think you know why I've brought you here."   
  
"To help you decorate?" Fuji looked around. "I think a window over there would be nice, for starters."   
  
Fuji could've bought himself a few more minutes untouched if he hadn't snarked right off the bat. As it was, though, even he admitted he had that jab across the jaw coming.   
  
Mizuki wore a knuckle guard. Of course he did. God forbid he broke those manicured nails on someone else's bones.   
  
He could throw a punch, though. Who could've known.   
  
"I never really liked you," Mizuki said close to his face. "And I should kill you here and now. But I think I might keep you alive a little longer." Mizuki's (magnificently glossy) lips curled into a smirk. "After all, you're Tezuka's little pet, aren't you?"    
  
Fuji chuckled. One of Mizuki's minions looked at the other, wondering how their captive could still laugh under the circumstances.   
  
"I don't think you know who you're dealing with, Mizuki," he said. There was a large cut along his right cheek, he was aware, and he tasted blood on his lips, but he spoke as if he felt none of this. "He won't barter for me."   
  
"Well," Mizuki flippantly remarked, "that's a chance I can afford to take. I'm not just after the ransom, at any rate. I think you'll give me information on how to take down Tezuka before the night is out."   
  
Fuji chuckled again. God, this guy could be so deluded.   
  
"I see you don't think I'm serious, Tsubame-kun," Mizuki sighed. "Let's start over."   
  
Fuji felt some sort of pressure bear down on his bandaged hand, and he winced.   
  
It was only when he looked that he realized a penknife had been driven into it.   
  
(Once, while running during games at school, he had torn his knee open. He was pretty sure he could see the bone exposed. He later assured his little brother that it didn't hurt, not that much. In fact, at the moment his skin got torn open, he didn't feel it at all. "It really didn't hurt?" Yuuta had asked incredulously, afraid to even touch the gauze that covered the wound. "That's scary.")   
  
Minion #1, taken aback by the lack of expected reaction, twisted the knife in place. Fuji gritted his teeth. Finally realizing this was far from the worst they could do to their delicate-looking captive, Minions #1 and #2 endeavored to be more creative.   
  
They must've thought him some sort of freak. They pounded on him like they wanted him to cry out in pain, which he wasn't inclined to do. Mizuki just stood by and watched.    
  
And when Minions #1 and #2 had exhausted themselves for nothing, Mizuki approached Fuji again and tipped his bloodied chin up.   
  
"You're a real piece of work, aren't you, Tsubame-kun."   
  
He grinned.   
  
"Or, should I say, Fuji Shuusuke."   
  
Fuji's eyes widened. He suddenly became very aware of how tight his restraints were.   
  
"Surprised?" Mizuki grunted. "Of course I knew. Only that idiot boss of yours wouldn't do a background check on people before letting them into his intimate circles." He straightened up, crossed his arms over his chest. The bit of blood on his finger was probably going to leave a permanent stain on his clothes. "It was just never very useful information to me until now."   
  
"How did you know," Fuji demanded. "I never told anyone, how - "   
  
"Oh please." Mizuki rolled his eyes, reached into a chest pocket of his velvet suit. "As if it was hard to see the resemblance." He brought out a colored photograph.   
  
Fuji couldn't see it at first. His left eye was starting to swell shut, and his head was still ringing from the blows. Mizuki brought it closer.   
  
It was Yuuta.   
  
The photograph of Yuuta that had disappeared from his altar.   
  
"He told us once that he had an older brother," Mizuki whispered close to Fuji's ear - all silk and grease, "who used to smile a lot and not feel pain. Did you think we couldn't work it out?"   
  
The ringing in Fuji's head suddenly began to overwhelm him. He was no longer sure he heard Mizuki correctly. Mizuki was saying something about his younger brother seeking entry into their gang - and as a test, as a cruel joke, they had sent them out to confront the newly-arrived gangster, the wild-haired biker who came alone, cutting a path through the city with only a gun and a sword.   
  
Yuuta had agreed.   
  
Mizuki's plan had been to use Yuuta as bait - to unsettle the newcomer, make him lose control of himself, then his gang was going to swoop in. And of course Mizuki already knew who the newcomer was. He also knew that the newcomer was prone to being overemotional when a certain member of his family was even mentioned. He always did his research.   
  
But the newcomer had killed Yuuta even before Mizuki's gang could step in and incapacitate the newcomer, as planned. The newcomer was fast, and determined to kill. And after Yuuta was dead, he fled on his motorcycle, instead of engaging Mizuki's gang, as he was expected to do.   
  
A chase around the city proved fruitless - he was faster than anyone. And he had a friend with him - an accomplice, who helped him get away.   
  
It didn't matter, however - they had aimed to either capture the newcomer, alive or dead, or else to drive him out of the city. Their second objective, at least, was met.   
  
"So you see, Fuji-kun," Mizuki hissed triumphantly, "you and I go  _way_  back. I disposed of your pathetic younger brother - I can dispose of you."   
  
There was a glass jar on the floor, in a corner of the room. If Fuji hadn't been so focused on his assailants, he would've noticed it before. As it was, he only saw it when Mizuki went over to it. He held it in one hand and held it up to the light.   
  
It contained a single scorpion. Fuji was quite sure it didn't look like the scorpion that he had saved Tezuka from, on the day they met. If it was some sort of "torture scorpion," perhaps it had a different poison. One that was better at causing pain for longer.   
  
Fuji had always disliked Mizuki Hajime, but he never knew before now that he had a good reason:   
  
_This_  was the man who had killed his brother. Not the wild-haired newcomer with the motorbike and the sword. That one had only been a foil. And he had been after the wrong guy all along.   
  
Fuji's mind blanked. He just remembered the color red filling his eyes. And the sound of Mizuki Hajime's cruel laughter ringing in that closed-off space.   
  
Then the Minions were upon him again, beating him down/restraining him/killing him, he could no longer be sure. He thought he saw Mizuki opening the jar, taking out a pair of small forceps (from inside his blazer? somewhere inside that ridiculous boa?), carefully extracting the small creature inside and holding it closer to Fuji's face.   
  
Fuji looked past the scorpion, kept his gaze on Mizuki Hajime for as long as he could, burning the hateful image of that laughing face into his mind, until his vision failed and the red that he saw bled out into black.   
  
***   
  
There were sounds of gunfire and struggle. People were shouting.   
  
The door to the bunker was open.   
  
There were other people on the floor with him. Two large men. The Minions...?   
  
Something lay near him. It was a scorpion - squashed flat, by the look of it.   
  
And near it lay what looked like a severed human hand.   
  
Was it his hand...? He brought his hands up to his face - nope, they were fine. Bloody, but intact. That was also how he saw that his restraints had been cleanly cut off.   
  
His consciousness flickered. Blood was rushing down the drain at one corner of the bunker. Too much blood. That couldn't all have been his.   
  
He felt two inhumanly strong arms lifting him up from the floor.   
  
He couldn't stay awake. Who was it carrying him out of the bunker? He couldn't adjust his tortured eyesight to the person's rapid movements, and even the person's face came to him as a blur.   
  
"Tezuka," he said through the haze. It came out as a question.   
  
There was no answer. Perhaps the word never came out.   
  
***   
  
Fuji woke up in the hospital.   
  
When he was able to focus, he looked around. He was in a single ward. Most likely in the hospital Tezuka had appropriated for his gang's exclusive use.   
  
There was someone else in the room with him, seated in the chair set aside for visitors. Fuji recognized the mess of black hair first of all.   
  
Hm. One would think it was someone from Tezuka's gang he would find here, or Tezuka himself.   
  
"Yo," Chitose brightly greeted. "How's it hangin'?"   
  
"Just fine, thanks," Fuji replied. He felt no urgent pain, but he did feel heavy and lethargic. Anaesthetics, perhaps.   
  
"Don't move around too much yet. You broke a lot of bones," Chitose informed him. Then he scratched his head and sighed loudly. "Dammit. I was supposed to leave today. Hell of a way to keep me in this city, Tsubame."   
  
"Sorry." Fuji let out a good-natured chuckle. "Well, go on. I don't want to keep you."   
  
Chitose laughed along. Fuji could tell Chitose liked him, and at the same time acknowledged that he wasn't helpless... much like the way anyone would like other people's pet crocodiles, he guessed.   
  
"I think I'll stay a little longer. There was something I wanted to talk to you about before I left, anyway. Are you up to it? You better be up to it." He scowled. "You've been in a healing coma for two whole days."   
  
Fuji thought about it. Then decided to answer, "I don't think my heart suffered any damage, so I can take it. What's on your mind?"   
  
Chitose leaned forward.   
  
"You know Tachibana, don't you?" he said as gently as he could, for a subject matter that was clearly, to him, very serious. "I'm surprised you haven't asked me about him."   
  
Fuji frowned. "What's there to ask? He's a small-time gang boss trying to establish his own turf. He's not important."   
  
"Isn't he? So why did you let his men go?"   
  
Chitose was there, too, when he'd made that request of Tezuka. He would remember. Fuji just didn't know that he was going to find it so interesting.   
  
"They were kids, not men," Fuji answered matter-of-factly.   
  
"Oh come on," Chitose retorted. "They were what, one, two years younger than us? Not that young."   
  
Fuji shrugged. Chitose smiled at him with an unexpected warmth.   
  
"The truth is," Chitose started to explain, "Tachibana and I are friends. Old, old friends. I know all sorts of things about him... like his fighting style and his leadership skills. And I see it in other people's eyes when he's made an impression on them."   
  
Fuji didn't know how to answer that. He missed the bandage that was no longer on his hand. He hoped, at least, that the hospital was able to set it aside.   
  
"Tachibana has that aura about him, doesn't he? Draws people to him, puts them at ease. Leaves his mark on you." Chitose smiled again. "He's always been like that. He never works alone. And he was never alone. A long time ago, he had me."   
  
Fuji blinked. How was he supposed to process that.   
  
"You really don't know anything about him, do you." Chitose leaned back in his chair and linked his fingers over his stomach - a thinking pose. "We were supposed to take over our city together, the two of us. Every day, we trained hard to make ourselves stronger. He was the one who insisted that daily training was important. He even developed his very own fighting style - that's how ambitious he was. Thanks to him, the two of us were feared and respected in our city, even before we turned 12 years old. Can you believe that?"   
  
Fuji could believe it. Though Chitose never got into any fights while he was in the city, he emitted the sort of energy that made his strength  _felt_ , not seen.   
  
"But something happened to Tachibana." Chitose's voice turned grim here. "He had a younger sister... An."   
  
Past tense. Already Fuji didn't like where this story was going.   
  
"She was something else, that girl... cute and spirited, and strong-minded, like her brother. Tachibana adored her. He was her big brother; all she had to do was call him and he'd come running. He thought he could protect her forever, or at least that he'd taught her enough to defend herself against the gangs that might target her. Turns out he hadn't."   
  
He spared Fuji the details, and Fuji was silently grateful. He had no love for stories about innocents dying in pain. Never did.   
  
"Tachibana went a little crazy after that. Struck out on his own and hunted down whoever killed An. He didn't know who they were yet, but they found out that they were out of town, so he up and left our city. And me. Just like that."   
  
If Chitose was hurt, it didn't show in his face or voice. Maybe any resentment that he felt toward Tachibana had been weathered away by the years they were apart - or maybe there was never really any resentment there at all.   
  
"So I got on my bike and followed him. Or tried to. When he's on 'kill' mode, he's quite a sight. Maybe he's even deadlier than Tezuka... although I shouldn't say that." A corner of Chitose's lips rose. "At least he could be a worthy rival for Tezuka. He moves fast, that's for sure. Too fast for me.   
  
"I finally caught up to him in this city. On the night I found him, he was called out by a gang. This gang sent out a boy. The boy was telling Tachibana that his gang had killed An. It looked like it was a trap, though not a very smart one, since Tachibana was able to kill the boy and run before his gang could lay a finger on him."   
  
"How do you know all this?" Fuji challenged. This fit in ridiculously well with the story Mizuki had used to drive him to wits' end, and hearing it didn't exactly improve how Fuji felt at the moment.   
  
"I saw him do it. I was there. And when things got hot, I helped him get away."   
  
A witness. And not just a witness - an accomplice. Under Fuji's nose all this time, and he never even knew.   
  
Oblivious to the storm of thoughts in Fuji's head at the moment, Chitose started to talk about how the boy was killed. First, Tachibana brought out his  _katana_  and sliced off the boy's right ear. Then as the boy fell to the ground, screaming in pain, Tachibana impaled his left thigh with the point of his sword.   
  
That wasn't all. It didn't end there. Listening made the backs of Fuji's eyes feel like they were on fire. Finally he could bear it no longer.   
  
"Stop," Fuji cried. "Stop. Why are you telling me this." As far as he knew, Chitose didn't know his real name, or his relationship with the boy that was killed. Or how he knew Tachibana in the first place. And Fuji had to be careful not to give anything away. Even if he felt at this moment like his insides were being ripped apart.   
  
Pain, at last.   
  
"I'm telling you," Chitose said, puzzled at his reaction, "because I want you to know who saved you back in that bunker." He shook his head and stood. "Forget it. You're worked up now, I'm calling the nurse..."   
  
Fuji shot out a hand and grabbed Chitose's wrist.   
  
"Tell me," Fuji commanded, weak as he was. "Tell me. Everything. The one who saved me. Wasn't it Tezuka?"   
  
Chitose studied Fuji for a moment. And when he had assured himself that Fuji was able to hear more, he gently removed Fuji's hand from his wrist.   
  
"You were unconscious, so you didn't see," Chitose said quietly. "But all the people in that bunker were killed in the same way that boy in the street was - first some of their limbs were cut away. Then a bullet in the center of the forehead finished them off. That's not how Tezuka does it."   
  
Fuji felt himself starting to shake. Maybe he wasn't in the best condition to keep listening, after all.   
  
"You see, that's how Tachibana kills. That's how he's always killed." Chitose looked away. "But he hasn't killed anyone in a long time. At least, until you were kidnapped. He just stopped killing and vanished from everyone's sight. Because of what happened to that boy."   
  
"The boy in the street?"   
  
Chitose nodded.   
  
"Just before Tachibana shot him in the head," he said, "he cried out for his big brother."


	6. Chapter 6

The first thing he did after leaving the hospital was to buy flowers, and return to the place where Yuuta died.   
  
He laid the bouquet down on the pavement and sat down in front of it.    
  
So many things had happened and Fuji felt as if he had been in this city for a decade. It had been a long two years.   
  
And yet, Fuji had not expected that it would take him this long to know the truth.   
  
Yuuta had wanted to join a gang. And not just any gang, but Mizuki Hajime's gang... which was, in fairness, one of the most powerful gangs in the city, before Tezuka came along.   
  
But if he hadn't joined that gang - if he hadn't come to this city specifically so he could join a gang, unhindered by his family - he would have made it to age 17. He would have been preparing to graduate from high school. He would have had friends, a girlfriend maybe, and nothing would have been more important to him than getting into a good college.   
  
That life was gone to them both, now. There was no way to get it back.   
  
Fuji drew his knees up and wrapped his arms around them.   
  
_Why did you do it,_  he silently asked.  _I thought you wanted to be nothing like me._   
  
He ran a hand through his hair. He still couldn't move his left hand very well, and not because of the fresh bandages tightly wound around it.   
  
After a while of silence, Fuji stood.   
  
He walked away. The flowers he had left behind were bound together at the stems with a length of cloth bandage, frayed and old and well-used.   
  
***   
  
A few hours earlier, he was still dressing himself, getting ready to leave the hospital.   
  
Then he had another visitor.   
  
"They told me you were resting," Tezuka said, surprise evident not in his voice, but in the way he stood perfectly still, eyes running over Fuji's body.   
  
"I was," Fuji assured him. "I'm done resting. Honest. You can ask them."   
  
Tezuka could indeed ask the doctors and nurses - and they would say the exact opposite of what Fuji had just said. But Fuji doubted he would trouble himself. He would simply take Fuji's word for it.   
  
Mizuki was right in that respect.   
  
"So, to what do I owe the honor?" Fuji asked dryly. "You didn't come all this way just to see if I was okay, I hope?"   
  
"I thought you might have some questions." Tezuka sat on the chair beside Fuji's bed. He had not bothered removing the long coat - that meant he did not plan on staying long.   
  
It was a marvel Tezuka came at all. It wasn't his way to stop and care for other people. But while he was there, Fuji should take advantage.   
  
"Was it true?" he quietly asked. "About the one who saved me..."   
  
Tezuka studied his face. "You know him."   
  
"I've met him," Fuji answered, looking away. "That's it."   
  
After a pause, Tezuka continued: "He's wanted in many cities, including this one, for a series of murders." It almost sounded funny, coming from someone who never left the watch list of all the cops or the hit list of all the gangs in every city he had ever visited. "He has no respect for territory. He kills quickly and without mercy. That was the Tachibana we knew."   
  
_"We"...?_  But Fuji didn't need to ask. He knew "we" meant the ones like Tezuka, who were invincible and impossible to ignore. They had their own world, apart from the world that the rest of the underground operated in: the world of the strong.   
  
"He vanished for two whole years. This city was where he was last sighted, and it was rumored that he was killed here." Tezuka relayed all this without emotion. If he and Tachibana ever had bad blood between them, it was not evident. "Now that there's proof he's still alive, the other gangs are riled up. Word got around that he's formed his own gang, though no one knows what his purpose is, yet. No one knows where they're based, either."   
  
_I do._  But there was no call for saying that. Especially since he had no intention of giving out any details.   
  
"I know you know him," Tezuka said quietly, "because otherwise, he wouldn't have charged into Mizuki Hajime's territory just to save you. Someone from his gang walked up to our headquarters, told us that you were being held in the West side, and left."   
  
The way Tezuka sounded told Fuji that he recognized the boy who brought the message.   
  
"It was one of the teenagers who raided our warehouse." Tezuka kept his eyes on Fuji's. "They were his, weren't they? All of them. And you knew. But you never told me about them, or about Tachibana."   
  
Fuji didn't have to acknowledge it. But he did, with a nod.   
  
Tezuka said nothing.   
  
It was a suicidal revelation. But then, someone had called Fuji suicidal and stupid, once. Right-hand men don't keep secrets that huge. You don't hide it from your boss that there's a rival boss in town, amassing power and men. You can't pretend you didn't think it was important.   
  
Tezuka had paid the price Fuji had exacted for his loyalty. So he didn't need to say it: by all rights, there was no way for Fuji to go back to his gang.   
  
Tezuka rose. He removed one of his black leather gloves within Fuji's line of sight.   
  
Fuji kept a smile on his face. He waited silently for the bullet or the sword that he got coming. It made sense that Tezuka would visit: a hospital would not be a bad or unusual place for a gang boss to put an end to a traitor's misery.   
  
Tezuka stepped up to Fuji's hospital bed.   
  
"Stay a little longer," he said to Fuji. "Until you're fully recovered. Kawamura will be outside waiting to take you wherever you want to go."   
  
Fuji blinked.   
  
This didn't seem anything like punishment.   
  
"I'm all right," Fuji slowly and tentatively said. "Really. I'm not in pain."   
  
"You're not in pain," Tezuka argued, "doesn't mean you're all right."   
  
He laid his ungloved hand lightly on Fuji's head.   
  
This was the first time Fuji had ever felt Tezuka's touch. And it was warm. Warmer than he had expected.   
  
If Fuji had ever felt anything warmer, he had forgotten when, or whom.   
  
"Mizuki is dead. Dismembered and shot in the head in front of his own safehouse," Tezuka said, almost gently. "But don't ever be careless again, Tsubame."   
  
Without another word, Tezuka turned and started to walk back to the door.   
  
***   
  
And many hours later, around sunset, he was standing on the rooftop of a building.   
  
From there he could see the entire city. In his mind it was all mapped out in territories, and most of what he could see was Tezuka's.   
  
Some pride came with realizing that he had helped bring it about. A small neon and concrete empire.   
  
One that could have been Tachibana's, if Fuji had not been drawn away.    
  
If he had stayed to help.   
  
Fuji would've allowed himself a moment of regret, some small nostalgia for the safety and security he enjoyed in Tachibana's care... but there was no time.   
  
Tachibana had appeared, right on schedule.   
  
The look on his face and the distance he kept betrayed that he had not expected Fuji to be there... but neither was he determined to get Fuji to leave. He shut the door behind him and approached unhurriedly, hands in the pockets of a long coat Fuji had not remembered him ever wearing before.   
  
This Tachibana looked somewhat different. Stronger. Harder-edged. Not the kind who would stop to talk to a stranger kneeling in front of an unmarked grave. Not the kind who would harbor lost orphans and runaways.   
  
And yet, Fuji felt, this was his true self.   
  
Tachibana's hair might have been longer, but it was still short-cropped. Only now did it occur to Fuji that on the day they met, Tachibana's head was newly-shaven.   
  
(It just didn't matter, back then. Lots of thugs shaved their heads to look tough. It should've occurred to him that Tachibana had not  _needed_  to shave, because he would be tough no matter how he looked.)   
  
Still, his hair was not long enough to hide the very visible mole on his face:   
  
A single mole, like a target mark, right in the center of the forehead.   
  
It almost made Fuji laugh. All these realizations that came too late, all the clues that Tachibana left out in the open for him, and for anyone who ever bothered to look...   
  
He should've known.   
  
"It's good that you came." Tachibana was the one who spoke first.   
  
Fuji let Tachibana approach, and lean forward on the railing, just like in the old days. But he didn't stand as near to Fuji as he would have, in the old days.   
  
"I owed you," Tachibana began again, "for saving Kamio and the others. The warehouse strike... I would've sent them to do it once they were ready, but they weren't. Not just yet."   
  
There was none of the charming arrogance that had so captivated Fuji a while back. It was replaced by a firm confidence, a  _sureness_ , that reminded Fuji of a snake coiling for a single lethal strike.   
  
"You don't owe me anything anymore," Fuji pointed out. "Because clearly, you stalked me until you found an opportunity to save my life. And now we're even."   
  
A mirthless smile touched Tachibana's lips. An automatic response. It was all the acknowledgement Fuji needed.   
  
"You knew, didn't you?" Fuji asked directly. "Who I was."   
  
Tachibana took his time answering. Eventually, he said "From the beginning."   
  
The night chill was settling in. Funny how Fuji’s skin was so receptive to temperature, but not to pain.   
  
"I wonder," Fuji said, "what would you have done if I'd known earlier who  _you_ were?"   
  
There was cheerfulness in Fuji's voice, but he could feel the first stirrings of rage welling up in the pit of his stomach. He knew. He'd known all along.   
  
"I meant to keep you close." Tachibana was straightforward enough. "You were bound to find out sooner or later... but as long as you lived under my roof, I would know when you did."   
  
"And then what?" Fuji challenged. "Were you going to kill me?"   
  
"I couldn't have killed you," Tachibana firmly answered. "I knew how you felt. I had a little sister, too."   
  
There was no point in pretending he didn't know. There was no point in asking him to explain, either, although Tachibana tensed up; he would have pulled the words out of his gut if Fuji had asked.   
  
But Fuji didn't want to ask. He already knew more than enough. He and Tachibana had formed a friendship by respecting that they couldn't talk too much about themselves - there was no point in changing that now.   
  
"I never found them," Tachibana said nonetheless. "The ones who hurt and killed her. I've looked all over. I've even allowed myself to bite the bait that a two-bit gang boss like Mizuki would dangle in front of me."   
  
He still couldn't say her name. The wounds were still fresh.   
  
"But when I met those boys," Tachibana continued, in a gentler voice, "I don't know why... but revenge no longer seemed as important."   
  
Fuji felt envy set in. Tachibana had found something to kill the rage. He had found a way to live with himself. To start over.   
  
"You've done good by taking them in," Fuji remarked, as easily as if they were still friends. "You're helping them survive."   
  
Tachibana's face relaxed a bit. His first impulse had been to smile upon hearing this, but he caught himself.   
  
"There are some of us who are too young to understand," he murmured, "exactly what kind of world we live in. They need someone to look out for them until they do."   
  
Not for the first time since they met, Fuji thought about how lucky Kamio and the rest were, to have someone like Tachibana around. And how understandable it was that they would be possessive of him. They were more a family than a gang, or an army, like Fuji had thought at the start... and thanks to Tachibana, they would grow up strong.   
  
Fuji felt a familiar anxiety creeping up on him. But he had nothing to kill it with, now. The bandage was gone. And he had no time.   
  
"Tachibana?" Fuji said softly.   
  
Tachibana turned toward Fuji, who was striding toward him.   
  
In the split-second that followed, Tachibana had drawn a gun from the right-hand pocket of his long coat and aimed it at Fuji's forehead.   
  
And Fuji had stuck a switchblade into Tachibana's chest.   
  
***   
  
The city fell silent.   
  
The sounds of the road and of the noise blaring from nearby establishments failed to reach Fuji's ears.   
  
Tachibana had stopped breathing.   
  
Fuji felt the knife in his grip tremble with the force of a heart too strong to be stopped with a single blow.   
  
"This is for Yuuta," Fuji said through clenched teeth.   
  
The gun dropped from Tachibana's hand and clattered to the floor.   
  
Tachibana slumped forward. He could have pulled away, and blood would have sprayed from his chest, and he would have died more quickly. But he didn't.   
  
_This_  was why Tachibana kept him close. Why they shared the same bedroom. Why Tachibana let him take the bed while he slept on the floor, when no boss of his caliber would stoop so low for any stranger. Why he let Fuji have so much, from the beginning.   
  
Mizuki Hajime may have sent his brother to his death…   
  
But nothing will ever change the fact that it was Tachibana who made the killing shot.   
  
Fuji stumbled backward against the taller boy's weight, but managed to wrap one arm around Tachibana to steady them both.   
  
Tachibana had never meant to shoot. Fuji knew that much. A split-second was plenty of time for him to pull the trigger, but he didn't.   
  
Fuji thought he saw Tachibana's face relax into a smile as he fell forward.   
  
_I couldn't have killed you. I knew how you felt._   
  
Then Fuji moved, so that in one swift movement, he would pull out the knife and pitch Tachibana's body backwards over the railing.   
  
As Fuji watched the body fall out of his line of sight, the last remnants of warmth that Tachibana's body had lent to him fled, and the sounds of the city returned, like a great beast heaving a sigh of relief.   
  
***   
  
Word would spread even faster than the evening news. There was no way it could have been an accident.    
  
A boy in a long coat fell from the rooftop of an old building in the center of the city. The coroner would say that he must have died of a single, clinically precise stab in the heart even before he fell.   
  
He would be identified as a gangster: a wild boy who had been wanted in many cities for a series of murders. A mugshot of him with long, disheveled hair and haunted eyes would be flashed on television.    
  
None of the boys he had taken under his wing would recognize that mugshot. That guy in the photo couldn't be Tachibana-san, they would say to each other in shock, for the next several days. No way.   
  
And the city would rejoice in the loss of another killer. Especially the other gangs that had been prepared to fear him, since knowing he had resurfaced.   
  
Takashi was waiting for him with a car a few blocks away. By the time Fuji got there, he had cleaned up and changed his clothes, and the paramedics had taken the body away. Takashi suspected nothing.   
  
"Hey, you heard?" Takashi greeted, wide-eyed. "Some guy fell from the rooftop of that building over there."   
  
"Really?" All innocence, feigned surprise. "What happened to him? Was he pushed?"   
  
"Well," Takashi stammered, "I dunno, because I couldn't leave the car here... and I couldn't drive over 'cause of the crowd." Takashi scratched his head. "He's probably dead, you know... that's a pretty long fall. Poor bastard."   
  
Fuji muttered a sympathetic comment, and got in the passenger's seat. Takashi started up the engine and drove off.   
  
It was nothing. Death was nothing. It happened all the time. Tezuka had given them both this day off to rest, to attend to their personal business... but tomorrow, it was going to be another day in Tezuka's gang. Another day of taking over the world.   
  
"So, we're done with your stuff? We're headed back to base, right?" Takashi asked. Fuji was surprised to find that he needed a second to answer.   
  
"...Yeah. Hey, you've picked up Reika's dress from the cleaners already?"   
  
"Shit!!" Takashi exclaimed. "Um... is it okay if we swing by the cleaners? It's not too far out of the way, right?"   
  
Fuji chuckled. "It's no trouble. Besides, we wouldn't want Reika being disappointed in her big brother."   
  
Takashi pouted. He wouldn't have forgotten, he really wouldn't. It was just - there were a lot of things on his mind, with the restaurant, and the hits, and the time he'd taken off school...   
  
Fuji let Takashi talk. His voice was surprisingly soothing, today. Fuji's hands ceased to tremble, his breathing evened out, and his muscles began to relax.   
  
He realized, to his amazement, that he was going to sleep well that night.


End file.
